


Howl

by watchthequeenconquer



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF, fake chop - Fandom
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Car Chases, Developing Relationship, Dirty Dancing, Exhibitionism, Fake Chop, Gang Violence, Gun Violence, Gunplay, Intoxication, Knifeplay, M/M, Mentions of past prostitution, Power Play, Riding, Sex during impending gang fight, Sexual Violence, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 21:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15374148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchthequeenconquer/pseuds/watchthequeenconquer
Summary: With the moon full engorged and James looking ready to commit another felony, Aleks can’t run from himself anymore.OR Aleks ditches the crew to go feral for the night and picks the wrong firefight, James shows up to clean up his mess and the outcome involves plenty of blood and angry desert-sex.





	Howl

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this sprawling, mess interlude that began over a year ago as my homage to all the Fake Chop happening in the fandom and ended 12,000 + words later here. 
> 
> Warnings for referenced prostitution, rough sex, some homophobic slurs and plenty of blood, maiming and murder. 
> 
> The title is from Howl by Florence and the Machine. 
> 
> The Lady Gaga song referenced is Marry The Night. 
> 
> Glad this is finally out there - hope you enjoy
> 
> WTQC

Aleks always finds the urge harder to resist around the full moon.

Normally work is a great distraction, but the crew is quiet at the moment. There was a warrant out on Trevor, who recently enjoyed some near face-time on the security cameras when their last heist nearly went pear-shaped after misinformation from the client. The edict from the higher ups was for everyone to lay low while the heat died down. Asher and Lindsey had been summoned by The Kingpin to scope out a new project for the group, though when it would commence given their recent misadventure was anyone's guess. It has been close to a month since their last job, and everyone that remained in limbo was feeling the strain.

With the moon looming overhead, full engorged, Aleks doesn't know how much longer he can dodge his shadow for.

"Hold still!" Joe instructs as patiently as possible while Trevor squirms in the chair underneath him.

"It fucking burns, man!" Trevor whines pathetically. To kill time and decrease the chance of a positive ID from their former marks, the decision had been made to shave and bleach Trevor’s head.

"I'm doing my best, sorry!" Joe replies apologetically, tongue poked out in concentration

"Stop being a little bitch, Trevor." James cuts in from his spot across the room, reclining in a lounge chair. Though his position is relaxed, his fingers restlessly twirl the fidget spinner in his hand.

Aleks visibly rolls his eyes, detaching himself from the glass of vodka he was leaning on to calm his nerves and moving away from his spot lounging by the window. He slaps on a pair of the cheap plastic gloves as he moves next to Joe to inspect the situation more closely. Joe allows him passage gratefully.

"It'll help a little if you rub it in." Aleks offers, massaging Trevor's scalp so the bleach is more evenly distributed. From experience, he knows it still hurts like hell, but the pressure alleviates some of the pain.

"Oh Daddy!" Trevor sighs, exaggerating his satisfaction with the service. Joe's resonating laugh is the purest thing Aleks has heard in weeks, freely reflecting off the barren walls of their dingy little hide out. He bites back a smirk in spite of himself.

"Wanna try that again? I will get bleach in your eyes.” He threatens, snapping a glove for good measure.

"N-n-no, no - please Aleks, you're the best, man. Love your work!" Trevor back-pedals, visibly cowering at the thought of having to test his limited pain tolerance any further.

"Could you guys be more homosexual?" James queries, wandering over to invade their space. That was the thing about James that rubbed Aleks the wrong way in situations like this - he always had to make his larger than life presence felt, even if it meant pushing everyone else into the corner while he took up the whole goddamn room.

"Come on, guys, lay off..." Joe begins, running interference early, reading the play perfectly and spotting Aleks ready to lose his temper from a mile off.

"Real mature. 10 out of 10 for empathy. Great contribution. " Aleks bites out, stepping back and snapping the gloves off before he unintentionally crushes Trevor's head with his hands. He knows it's ridiculous to get riled up over it, but fuck, everyone is on edge. Despite being very aware of this, James just carries on with his usual bullshit, stirring because he’s bored and frustrated like the rest of them.

"We can just leave it like this if you guys want..." Trevor adds awkwardly for anyone who might be still be listening, staring up at the two in trepidation.

"Well if your boy wasn’t so sloppy, we wouldn't be in this situation, so forgive me if I couldn't give a flying fuck about his hair colour!" James counters viperously.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Before James can open his mouth to respond, Aleks has shoved him clean half way across the room and is moving predatorily after him. Surprise and something like hurt if Aleks were to squint hard enough, if he could see through his blinding rage, flickers momentarily across James' face, before a mask of excited aggression drops easily into place. The prospect of violence and chaos always had got his blood up in a way that was foreign to Aleks, who just became numb, clinically cold.

"You heard me, you little twink!" James spat, eyes black with blood lust, pushing himself off the wall with his arms up and beckoning, practically begging Aleks to put hands on him. Aleks is quick but Joe is quicker, planting himself in between them.

"Guys, stop! We don't need this right now!" Joe raises his hands, spinning towards the more rational of the pair with his palms upwards in a universal sign of diffusion that even a Russian couldn't ignore.

" _I need this more than you think_." Aleks thought to himself, remaining silent as James paces hungrily behind Joe's back, itching for Aleks to make the first move. He is all teeth and animalistic energy, the same power that could be channeled into resounding calmness and accuracy like the flick of a switch when he was lining up a target for a flawless shot.

"He's a fucking asshole and Trevor doesn't deserve that shit!" Aleks focuses his energy on Joe, forceful but without the bite he'll reserve for tearing James' throat out at a more convenient opportunity with less witnesses.

"Thanks man, that means a lot." Trevor says with touching sincerity from out of eye-shot. The sudden softness in Joe's brown eyes tells Aleks that despite his best bluff, that there is no way in hell he's convinced anyone else but Trevor that he's only talking about him. Joe grabs him by the shoulder as if to hold him back. The combination of the gentle squeeze and his low voice are both grounding and soothing.

"I agree, but the last thing we need is to up the body count right now." Joe murmurs wisely, and Aleks begrudgingly wonders what they did to deserve such a paragon of virtue in their band of rag tag criminals for hire.

"Come on, Extreme. Even if disposing of the body was a pain, no one would miss him." Aleks grins conspiratorially. Joe suppresses a laugh when he makes sure it's loud enough for James to hear even if Aleks is only half kidding about committing a murder right now.

"If there's not going to be a fight and you're just going to blow each other, could you hurry up? I could use the entertainment." James drawls lazily. The sight over Joe's shoulder is way too irritating for Aleks to stand - James leaning cockily up against the wall, arms folded over his chest like he isn't buzzing to lay down a beating like Aleks knows he is, asshole.

"Go fuck yourself cause you’re the only one who’s interested." Aleks shoots back. James points at himself with a lightly offended expression (" _who, me?_ ") while Joe and Trevor share a brief, skeptical glance that Aleks chooses not to peripherally acknowledge, instead punctuating the statement by flipping James the bird.

"Take care of Trevor. I'm out." Aleks tells Joe, nodding at Trevor before making for the door. He doesn't give a shit about their curfew right now - James is under his skin and adrenaline's coursing through him and he can't resist the night's call any longer.

"Aleks, are you sure that's a good idea?" Trevor calls nervously as Joe runs a hand over his face in resigned exasperation. He must be spaced out in the storm of trepidation, frustration and anger because James is in front of him before he registers the movement.

"And where do you think you're going?" James asks him with an accusatory tone. The interrogation alone should be enough to bar the doorway without him setting his body as immovably as he does.

"The fuck away from you. _Move_." Aleks hisses. He's too far gone now to regret the venom dripping off his tongue. He can see the faint streetlights over James' barricading form, calling like homing beacons.

"Boss' orders. You're not going anywhere." James demands authoritatively, voice tight, arms stretching across the doorway. He looks tightly wired, ready to uncoil, but it's not anger radiating off him - it's concern. Aleks pushes the recognition away, any feelings it might inspire down, down, down.

"You're not the boss." Aleks leers cruelly, giving him another hard shove before adding, "Maybe if you put in the effort you reserve for pissing people off, you might be able to stop me."

They stare each other down for a second, sizing the other up before James moves fractionally aside to lean in the door jam, giving Aleks the space to shoulder roughly past him to make passage. The irate shouting begins when he's made it half way down the alley.

"That's it, run off like you always do! Put the whole fucking team in jeopardy so you can go feral for the night-"

Aleks doesn't turn back, rounds the corner without so much as a fault in his stride.

"James, stop!" Joe drags James back inside and out of the hearing range of their temporary neighbours. No one has been paid off, so there is no buffering to prevent someone calling the cops on the lunatic raving in the alley.

James allows himself be pulled, suddenly somehow deflated as Joe shuts the door. He sits down at the table heavily before jumping up a moment latter, slamming the chair back so it tips over and banging his fist on the hard wood.

"How long's it gonna be this time, Joe? Three days, four?" James fishes out a cigarette, focusing his nervous energy into finding a light.

"You need to go easy on them. Just go apologise to Trevor." Joe advises, leaning his weight on the opposite side of the table to eye James seriously. Trevor had long since evacuated the scene of the conflict in favour of self-preservation.

"Why does Trevor need to get so butt hurt about everything?” James whines before sighing loudly. "Fine. And as for Aleks, I don't give a shit about his feelings."

"Yep. Sure." Joe deadpans him and James doesn't even have the decency to waver whatsoever.

“The point is we don't need this shit right now! What if he gets picked up for doing something stupid?" James throws back, pacing between puffs.

"He'll come back. Just sit tight." Joe encourages with his best winning smile.

As James frowns and slips off to find Trevor, Joe hopes that James is in the right frame of mind to take his own advice.

 

*

 

Out in the night air with the blaring, bustling traffic and the promising thrum of crappy electro music in the distance, Aleks breathes in the fumes and orderly chaos and feels his chest lighten.

Unlocking his car and double checking that he hasn't been followed, he slides into the back seat and quickly locates the duffle bag stored in the back. His hands shake as he pulls apart out its contents – it’s always a surprise since he's done this so many times before. He takes a strong gulp of the bottle of cheap vodka bottle stashed beside it, steadying himself. The moonlight reflecting off the dash is constant and strong, overpowering the dim gaudiness of the street lamp, willing him on like an old friend will ill-intentions.

"Get it together, idiot." He tells himself motivationally, and quickly begins to get changed.

He doesn't remember when this became a thing that he did when he wasn't on the job - maybe it was the clandestine nature of the preparation, the thrill of slipping back into the role he had played in his former life, the shadow of his existence before Fake Chop, that was so similar to the excitement he felt tracing a mark that the connection should've been instantaneous. All Aleks knew was it was the closest he came to understanding hard addiction - the all-consuming need for a fix more powerful than rational thought.

He is almost embarrassed as he slips off his pants at the way it still gets him giddy. The long, thin tank top covered him so there was no risk of exposure, but he could see the dark hairs on his legs all on end in anticipation. The sensation of rolling the black, tattered fish net stocking overs his legs nearly makes his heart stop every time. Slowly, so slowly - both to avoid more tears to the sentimental pair he couldn’t yet bring himself to throw out but also to tease himself with the excruciating build up. Lifting his hips to finish, the motion of raising his ass in the air made his balls jump and his dick twitch pleasantly. Next came the tight, tailored leather shorts, sliding smoothly over his encased legs, grabbing at his ass in just the right way.

Zipping them up, he shudders despite the mild evening air at the warmth already pooling low in his stomach.

Oh yeah, he needed this alright.

Downing some more liquor, Aleks finishes dressing before jumping out the car. He ties the laces on the black combat boots with a high, sleek heel before surveying his reflection in the filthy glass window. He casually tucks the edge of his long grey tank into the top of the shorts, skimming a rough hand through his short platinum hair. The black sunglasses are probably a stretch, but fuck it, it’s Cali and he looks good, dammit.

Warm with anticipation and a little too much liquor, Aleks locks the car, checking over his shoulder out of habit one more time before sauntering off down the street, enjoying the gentle burn in his calves from the heels.

Finally roaming the streets, giving in to the call to recklessness hammering in his chest, the rest of the crew couldn't be further from his mind.

 

*

 

When the mood takes him, Aleks likes to dance.

Sometimes he hangs in the corner and watches the eccentric and the enigmatic intermingle, but it's summer and he's three shots down. Lady Gaga is pumping over the speakers, and as he moves out onto the floor alone, the frenetic beat does something to his body as she screams about marrying the night and not crying anymore.

He can feel the bass pounding through his chest, and he goes with it, pumping his fists low and swinging his hips lower because fuck if it isn't getting him wet with more than just sweat. He dances alone, eyes blissfully closed as the thundering synthetic sounds mercifully drown out the noise in his head, arms over his head and body grinding on an entirely different wave length. He feels eyes on him like he always does when gets like this, invites them but ignores them with the press of hands that reach out to claim him.

When the song ends (or was it seven songs later?), his trance fades and he breaks through the crowd towards the bar. The floor is slippery, but he moves easily, dodging couples already intertwined, groups of friends laughing, lone wolves on the prowl despite the fact they’re into the early hours of the morning. He leans his arms against the bar, stretching his legs and taking in the cool respite away from the crowded dance floor, surveying the throng behind him before a voice interrupts his people watching.

“You can’t do that here.” The bartender states with a warning in his tone, muscular arms popping as he cleans a glass casually with one hand. Aleks has seen that forced stance before. His line of work invented false pretence before the attack.

“You mean leaning? Didn’t realise it was a no stopping zone.” Aleks replies with a confused laugh. “I’m going to buy another drink…”

“I meant working the room.” The bartender finishes with a stern look. His voice is surprisingly high, mismatched with his black beard and darker expression, and Aleks could laugh if the guy honestly didn’t think he was trying to solicit business from his patrons. The amusement must show, because he is back tracking with his hands in the air not a second later.

“Wow, I’ve been doing this gig for a long time and I am not normally this bad of a judge of character. I am so sorry…” Dark bartender laughs helplessly, and its loud and entirely authentic.

“Aleks. You’re not and don’t worry about it.” Aleks extends his hand with an easy smile, appraising the bartender for his keen eye, “I uh- I get that a lot – occupation in a past life, maybe?”

“Brett and it’s nice to know I’m not entirely rusty. We’ve had a lot of noise around here lately, so it pays not to be too careful. Cali ain’t as quiet as she used to be.” Brett accepts with a nod, voice low, eyes understanding, a man who has seen a lot and operates with a discretion that is after Aleks’ own heart, or would be if he was less of a piece of shit.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Aleks knocks back the shot Brett pours for him easily.

He watches him as he moves around to serve a couple of other customers before returning. Aleks insists on paying even when Brett attempts to wave his money away which makes both men smile as they barter.

“Speaking of, though I haven’t seen any worthy contenders, you seem like you might be out hoping trouble finds you tonight?” Brett observes astutely. If Aleks were drunker, he might have thought the comment fell somewhere between derogatory and flirtatious, but he can feel the keyed-up energy coming off him in waves so he knows it’s a well-measured statement.

“Not the kind you’re thinking.” Aleks says anyway, even though both him and Brett know that he’s lying. Brett surveys him quietly for a second, so Aleks takes the measure of him in turn. His arms look as thick as Aleks’ torso, muscle defined in the forearms and triceps so he knows there’s some power behind it. If it came down to it, Aleks is confident he would win out on the precision of his knife, but it would need to be damn fast.

“That’s what they all say when the moon’s high, sweetheart.” Brett chuckles darkly, like he can read Aleks thoughts and would love to see him test his theory. When he tilts his head, chin raised in challenge, Aleks tries not to notice how attractive he is, focusing on the drink that has somehow appeared in his hand – maybe he is drunker than he thinks.

“So if you’re not looking for it, you’re running from it?” When Aleks’ head shoots up, defiance burning in his eyes, Brett raises his eyebrows pointedly.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Aleks buries the rest of his drink before he can blink, tapping the bar again for a refill though they are well past that level of informality now, trying to gain some control of the situation.

“So it’s a dick, then.” Brett guesses with smile, watching Aleks’ face closely for any reactional giveaways should he not offer more information.

“Has a dick or is a dick?” Aleks shoots back with a mirroring grin he can’t suppress. Between Brett’s enveloping, belly-deep laughter and the booze, the comfortable warmth is spreading from his neck to his toes.

“This dick wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, black eyes, a questionable job and a real dangerous smile, would it?” Brett asks prophetically.

“I didn’t know a penis could have that many defining features.” Aleks grins in spite of himself, knowing how ridiculous he sounds but having too much fun to care. He’s pressing forward onto the bar, letting gravity drag him further into the oddly soothing sounds of Brett’s voice.

“Some are more memorable than others,” Brett confides, eyeing Aleks with a clarity that makes him want to shiver, “But you haven’t answered my question?”

“Sounds like you know my type…”

Before he can stop himself, Aleks is leaning over the bar and catching Brett’s lips with his own. The kiss is sloppy and wet and only lasts a few blissful seconds before Brett half pulls back. Insistently, Aleks follows him, grabbing him by the front of his black shirt to drag him in. Brett goes with it and engages, and this time its deeper, hungrier, a strong hand on Aleks chin. It’s strangely centering and wildly intoxicating and over way too fucking fast.

“Easy, kid. Fuck.” Brett is more assertive when he pulls away the second time, hands stripping the balled up fists from the front of his shirt but all Aleks can focus on is the way he is breathing – hard. Arousal, concern and disappointment war for supremacy on his face.

“You don’t want this?” Aleks demands, well aware he probably looks desperate as hell, but he’s horny and high on a sliver of freedom and he’s craving brutality and really, really needs to know so he can take it out on the next person in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Fuck, Aleks. In a parallel universe where Nova wouldn’t cut off my genitals and make me choke on them while I was bleeding out...”

“Nova.”

Aleks’ face goes blank, then white in recognition.

_Shit._

He is too stunned to notice when an arm grabs him by the back of the shirt and pulls him away from Brett, off the bar. The unanticipated movement sends him staggering backwards, rolling one of his ankles in his ridiculously high heels in the process.

“Get out of the way, you little faggot! You’re holding up the line.”

A much older, much larger man spits at him, turning back to face Brett. In a split second, Aleks sizes him up as he regains his footing – old ex-army vet – definitely done some time - tatted up, handlebar moustache, wearing all black except for the leather jacket to cover up a patch, lump in the back where he’s packing.

“So you stood there staring at my ass? If you want some, come get some, you fucking creep!” Aleks shouts back angrily, temper flaring.

Before his assailant can turn fully, Aleks takes a run at him, head low, using his momentum to tackle him from the waist, smashing his ribs and exposed side into the wooden edge of the bar before sliding back out of arms reach.

Roaring in pain but recovering quickly, the larger man runs back toward Aleks, swinging wildly. Though the haymakers look to be nowhere near him, mid-dodge Aleks’ foot slips on the wet floor.

The loss of balance sends him sprawling. His head screams at him to roll but the hit automatically winds him when he falls chest first. The bigger man seizes the advantage without hesitation, viciously stomping on one of Aleks’ calves mid-roll. The pain has Aleks seeing stars, but the hit blessedly doesn’t connect properly with his movement.

“No fucking fighting! Aleks, stop!”

In the chaos, Brett has cleared the bar and is now standing on their side. A stained baseball bat has materialized and is hanging loosely by his right-hand side, poised for movement as he walks towards them with the detached calm of a seasoned bouncer.

Aleks uses the distraction to drag himself to his feet, slipping his hand into his boot in the process. Before the big man can turn back from Brett, Aleks has snatched a bar stool and swung it with all of his might into the back of his assailant’s knees to cut him down to size. When he hits the floor with a thud, Aleks swarms quickly, wrapping his arm around his neck, squeezing to apply a rear-naked choke as the man thrashes beneath him, using his free arm to slip his knife up under his exposed neck.

“Call me a faggot again.” Aleks threatens, voice shaking in anger. The world has narrowed down to the motion of his knife pressing with intended deliberation.

“Fuck, Aleks…!” Brett doesn’t even have time to finish the warning before there’s a hand in his hair, an arm blocking his attempt at a defensive elbow and a calm, deadly voice settling in his ear.

“Put the knife down or I _will_ fuck you up.”

A second later, the entire scene descends into chaos as all the water sprinklers in the building engage, drenching everyone within.

There is movement all around them and suddenly Aleks is going with it, being dragged along with the current amidst the shrieks and shouts, vision impaired by the water and mass confusion. It’s impossible to get a visual bearing on the pandemonium in the darkness, only broken by pulsing strobe lights so he allows himself begrudgingly to be dragged out by his hair, his damaged leg screaming with the effort.

His captor side steps into a passage littered with crates before they run up against an exit door that a few deft kicks make short work of before they are out in a back alley in the street.

“Get the fuck off me already!” Aleks snaps.

“Un-fucking-believable.” James mutters angrily, but acquiesces aggressively, releasing Aleks by tossing him into a nearby wall. He uses his free hands to load the pistol produced from his jeans, scanning the alleyway for entrants and whipping out his phone and shooting off a text – no doubt to let the others know their coordinates. Aleks couldn’t give less of a shit as he struggles to hold himself up, wincing at the combination of pain from the impact with the brick and dizzying intoxication.

“What happened to laying low, asshole?” Aleks sneers, the expression turning into a grimace as he attempts to put proper weight on his ankle and fails, slipping his knife between his teeth. Fuck, he doubts removing the shoe at this point would help him move anyway faster.

“This asshole just stopped you getting your ass handed to you, Aleksander.” James hisses, now inches from his face and Aleks has no idea how he moved so quickly.

The street lamps illuminating his form don’t do how strikingly furious James is justice, the bright colours of the tattooed forearm rammed against Aleks’ throat swimming before his eyes. Aleks shuts them for a second to refocus. Fuck he’s drunk.

“I was handling it…” He chokes out, considers kicking James in the dick and instead opts to remain still.

“That was you taking care of it? I’m going to fucking handle you when I get you alone, you just fucking wait… _shit_!” James’ threat is interrupted by the sound of gunfire.

He pulls Aleks down and drags him across a few meters of open space to hide behind a dumpster for cover against the assailants who have appeared from the club’s back door exit. Aleks tries not too hard to think about the fact that with his back to the wall, James shifts them so his body acts as a human shield while they manoeuvre across the open space. He numbly slumps flat against the wall as James positions himself at a crouch, peaking around the corner of the dumpster to assess the situation before ducking back.

“Did you have to pick a fight with a fucking Hell’s Angel enforcer, dumbass?” James spits at him, popping around the corner to let a shot off before staring at him accusingly.

“What is your problem? He started on me and, fuck you, I had him!” Aleks throws back defensively, flinching as return fire ensues. Between the pounding in his head and the sharp throbbing in his leg, throwing up and then curling up in a ball and passing out, ideally not in his own bodily fluids, is high on his agenda right now. Not participating in a gangland shoot out. Why did things always escalate when James was around? He was having a pretty decent night up until now, right?

“My problem? You didn’t have shit. There were three prospects waiting in the wings to take you down. And for the record, if you slit someone’s throat in public, it becomes my problem.” James counters, reloading in the blink of an eye before twisting fluidly and laying off another round.

Deciding to make himself useful, Aleks decides to do some surveillance of his own. The dumpster shielding them from the club exit is positioned halfway up the alley, mercifully placing them with a clean run to the street with the entry way currently unguarded. When James’ subsequent flurry of shots is met with no return fire, Aleks swallows hard in the now too quiet alley way, allows James to drag him to his feet and along with him as they start jogging and hobbling in silence towards the street with the sound of motorbikes revving ominously not too far away.

As they hustle towards the entrance of the alley and slide up to a wall to check their vantage point, Aleks can infuriatingly feel James’ eyes on him, briefly sweeping down the length of him before snapping around to check the street is clear.

“Is it hurt bad?” James asks, not looking at him.

“Just twisted.” Aleks replies with a roll of his eyes.

“Let’s move.” James points at a beat up four-wheel drive across the road and they move, low and fast. Piling into the passenger seat with more than a little difficultly, Aleks turns his head to look through the back window as James veers out of spot to see a trio of bikes swinging around the corner.

“We’ve got company!” Aleks snatches James’ gun instinctively, jamming open the skylight while staying as low as he can. A few shots ricochet off the car’s metal paneling, making their new friends’ presence well and truly felt.

“Get down and give it back!” James cries shrilly in protest. Aleks ignores him, fires off two shots that are way off target before ducking down just in time to miss a bullet that nearly shaves through his hair.

“Just drive!” Aleks shouts back, cursing to himself as he reloads.

He hears James muttering something about him being a terrible shot as he swings wildly to veer down a narrow side street. Hoping that the narrower target area will help focus his shot, Aleks steels himself, shutting one eye in the hopes of steadying his drunken vision, and pops back out of the sky light for his best chance at a surprise hit as the first of the biker rounds the corner. A bump in the road throws his arm skyward and Aleks jumps back down like he’s been hit as the rear-view glass pane shatters.

“Straight back to the gun club, Aleksander!” James shouts with a cackling laugh. Aleks feels like his stomach is about to drop right out of his ass, but his nerves calm a little bit at the unsettling yet familiar sound of James using his full name and making lame ass jokes in the midst of a car-chase as the other two bikers rejoin their leader.

“Your only driving experience is based on Need for Speed – all you’re hitting tonight is a parked car!” Aleks snipes back, grabbing onto the chair for dear life as James swerves dangerously out onto the main road.

His snort of disdain has Aleks up and resetting again, trying not to think too much as he pops out of the roof and fires off another shot. He nearly fist pumps the air when it connects with the leader’s front tire as he angles around the corner. Aleks swears in Russian as the other two pursuers manage to dodge the sprawling bike and its occupant as it skids out to the side of the road.

Pausing for a second to get his bearings, Aleks can see the arches of the highway up ahead in the distance. James is angling for the break away, but the open road isn’t going to mean much if they can’t shake the two left on their tail.

“Fast on the left!” James shouts, and Aleks quickly clambers into the back seat wordlessly, careful to avoid jarring his injured leg. He fires a shot off through the back window that has the bikes spreading out, dividing into the left and right lanes, the right one lagging back as the left breaks away fast to move up against the side of their vehicle.

“Call it.” Aleks shouts, bracing himself and crouching with his arm on the door handle, keeping low. He angles his arm over the back seat, shooting outside the back window again so that their pursuers thinks his focus remains on return fire as James watches out the side mirror.

“Hold it, hold…NOW!” Ducking his head, Aleks slams the rear passenger door open as James swerves the car into the side of the bike.

Between the upcoming parked cars and the force of the moving vehicle, Aleks feels the bile from his stomach rise to his throat as the rider crumples with a sickening scream, lost to their rear vision in a wreckage of metal and blood.

“Talk about road kill, dude!” James whoops, and where Aleks feels pale and clammy, when he catches James’ reflection in the mirror, his face is flushed and his dark eyes are dancing. Aleks doesn’t know which should shock him more – James’ insatiable, depthless aptitude for violence or that he continues to be surprised by it.

“And then there was one…stay still so I can shoot you, you fuck!” Aleks shouts, soberer than he has been all night.

The furious barrage of gunshots is a stark reminder that despite being so close, they are in no way in the clear. The lone bike is swerving now, cutting between lanes and making it even more difficult for Aleks to aim. His erratic shots, no doubt fueled by rage at the loss of his comrades, pelt them from all sides. Aleks almost stops holding his breath before the front wind shield shatters, the car swerves and he hears James suppressing a scream.

“James!” Aleks leaps into the front seat to see James steering one handed, doing his best not to double over as he holds the wound in his upper arm.

“It’s fine – just a graze.” James pants through gritted teeth, brushing him off.

Though Aleks want to protest and assess the wound properly, there’s a rider still at large and no fucking time to spare. His body begins to work on autopilot – the panic in his chest is overtaken by the clinical, disconnecting calm that always seems to centre him when pressure is applied. It’s what has always made Aleks the specialist when it comes to torture, both inflicting and on the receiving end. Still, its takes all his control to leave James and return to the back seat, waiting for the bike to slide into the middle lane again.

Lining up the target and exhaling, his heart stops fucking beating when he pulls the trigger to the sound of an empty click.

“Fuck…James?”

“No more bullets.” James replies evenly as Aleks ducks down behind the seat again and curses loudly. James’ tone doesn’t betray any emotion and his focus is dead ahead on the road in front of him, but his knuckles are bone white on the steering wheel.

“Back up?” Aleks replies, looking at him and glancing at the mobile phone hopefully.

“Not till the highway. It’s you and me, baby.” James’ voice is a song as he dodges and swerves between lanes and Aleks swallows hard. Three sets of lights to go before the off ramp and they’re running out of road.

“Shit.” Aleks manages with a shaky breath, sneaking a glance at their pursuant. The bike has given them some distance again, probably waiting for back up and anticipating a blaze of retaliation that isn’t going to come. It’s just a matter of time until they’re figured out. They don’t have long now.

Aleks’ eyes run numbly over the contents of the back seat, trying to get his bearings. He can’t believe after everything they been through with their newly established crew that this is it for them – that they’re going to find his body littered amongst the garbage in James’ newly procured car. Empty coke bottles, dirty clothes and a bottle of gasoline….

“Yeah, shit. Can you light this for me?” James replies with a cough that poorly suppresses the groan of pain underneath it, producing a cigarette and sticking it in his mouth. Aleks leans over the front seat and takes the pro-offered lighter, his eyes expanding to twice their size as an idea sparks in his head.

“What the fuck, dude!” James shouts as he snatches the lighter from him and the shooting recommences.

“Time for a little DIY chemistry.”

Adrenaline pumping, Aleks leaps into the back seat and tears off part of his singlet, searching the floor and grabbing a filth rag. He grabs two empty glass bottles, sticking them between his legs to balance them. It’s dangerous and it’s a long shot but it’s the only chance they have. James is swerving the car, following the path of the bike and attempting to block any attempt at properly flanking them as Aleks fills each bottle with gasoline, before unceremoniously soaking the strips of cloth and shoving them into the top.

“Get down!” James shouts as they clear the second last set of lights and the bikes swerves back into the middle lane, lining them up for more target practice.

Aleks ignores him, peeking his head over the back seat and ducking as another bullet rings by. The bikie must be running low on ammo too then.

“Slow down!” Aleks shouts to the front. He has a shitty arm on a good day and the bike is precariously out of reach, no doubt wary after their last close-range venture proved fatal.

“Are you insane?” James screams incredulously as they close in on the last stretch before the final light.

“Do it!” Aleks screams back, voice ridiculously high as the nerves kick in. It’s almost as though the rider senses it, can taste the blood in the water because he moves predatorily back in range, a mechanical vulture circling for a vengeful taste of the take down.

Just a little closer.

The revving of the car engine slows with Aleks’ heart rate. He sets the first molotov cocktail alight, unable to wait any longer for the perfect moment. The rider raises his arm as Aleks throws. The first explosive goes wide, glancing off a parked car but the shock is enough to throw the rider off balance. Cursing, Aleks steadies his arm and uses the disruption to line up his aim before releasing. They are just about to make the intersection when the final light goes red. Aleks releases just as the bike straightens itself and the makeshift bomb glances off the ground right in front of the bike.

“Holy fuck! HOLD ON!” James yells, pivoting hard as they run the light, barely missing being collected by a semi-trailer. The massive side of the vehicle cuts off the last of Aleks’ vision as the bike and its rider catch alight.

Even if he can’t see, the scream carries through, carries with him onto the highway and into his unconsciousness as he blacks out.

“Immortal’s secure. Tail’s extinguished. Heading for the spot and laying low.”

The words are serious but James is giggling manically into the phone before he drops it unceremoniously, tooting his horn and whooping and bashing his arms against the steering wheel when Aleks comes to. He sits up groggily, drags his sorry ass into the front seat and takes in their surroundings as the car pulls off the highway onto a dirt road. The temperature has dropped to minus, but he cracks the window gratefully, almost choking on the dust and the cold air. The combination burns his lungs and leaves him hacking but he couldn’t care less because they are battered but they’re alive.

“So kind of you to rejoin us, asshole.” James comments flatly, dark eyes not even sparing him a glance.

Aleks drops his head back onto the head rest, eyes half closed. From the corner of his vision, yeah, James looks more than pissed off, totally exhausted even but still in one piece minus the chunk blown out of his arm. Aleks can fix that, he can work with anything as long as James is breathing.

“Bite me, fucker.” Aleks groans, lifting his head to look out the window, taking in the miles of surrounding desert without a clearly identifiable landmark in site, “Where are we?”

“Paradise.” James replies shortly, turning off the road as the fuel engine begins to flash warningly, steering the car out of sight of the road to loop behind a large conclave of boulders. Aleks doesn’t register any signifying markings or features that might separate it from any other potential drop zone that their crew might use. He notices wearily that James makes no move to contact the team to signal their arrival.

Fuck.

Aleks is first out, stumbling as he tries to regain his balance on the uneven ground as he puts as much distance between himself and the car as he can manage. His eyes never leave James, shoulders open the door sluggishly after him, the blooming stains of the ruining arm of his shirt betray the damage. Damage that Aleks, inadvertently or not, has inflicted.

The low after the adrenaline peak, his incoming hangover and overpowering concern hit him in one distorting head spin. It’s enough to have Aleks spilling his guts into the dust, hands braced on knees as his body shudders through the retching. Bent in half as he recovers, he reaches down to recover his favourite knife from the safe confines of his boot, steadying his fingers around the hilt and holding it loosely by his side as he straightens weakly.

“Slow down, where are you off to in those boots?” James asks softly, too softly for Aleks in his state of red alert, tone light as he leans against the passenger side door with his arms lightly crossed. It’s meant to look casual, reduce the risk of alarm, but Aleks sees the stance for what it is, a makeshift support to conserve his strength.

“Come on dude, obeying direct orders has never been my strong suite.” Aleks returns easily, though his wrist still remains tightly wrapped around his weapon, eyes darting back to the road, trying to measure the distance, “No blow back after I passed out?”

“No trace after your fireworks display.” James replies, body completely still but eyes roaming shamelessly over Aleks, mapping every stilted movement.

“Seems kind of remote for a pick-up point.” Aleks hums, visually strip-searching James for a weapon. His gun would be in the waistband of his jeans, but with no bullets it wouldn’t be much use. Wouldn’t matter, Nova could inflict plenty of damage without it.

“Not ideal, but situation’s change. Couldn’t be too careful after the show you put on.” James glances around almost appreciatively before pushing off the car and moving slowly to the trunk.

After rummaging around for a second, Aleks nearly chokes as his stomach plummets and James produces a fresh pistol. Swallows harder as he scans the area around them and checks its loaded with a click that would leave a less seasoned felon screaming or crying or begging for mercy. Doesn’t respond with words, just a series of stumbling backwards steps as James lifts his head and begins to close the mercilessly short distance between them.

“Thought you might like the scenic route…wild, huh?” James continues with a whistle, voice dangerously low above the stifled murmur of the desert night, more comfortable with a gun in his hand, “No? I’m surprised you’re not howling at the fucking moon or setting something on fire. That was the whole point of tonight, right? Blow off some steam, roam the streets, pick the wrong fight, fuck everything up in your path and leave it to the crew to clean up...”

“Always with the crew….you followed me, James. Did I ask you to fucking be here…do I ever?” Aleks spits out, finding his voice in anger, refusing to go down without a fight even in retreat, skin practically seething with heat in the cool night air. He cries out when his heel finds a large rock, causing him to fall back on his ass in the dirt and sand, barely feeling it when he jars his already fucked ankle. Still he scrabbles blindly backwards, clawing at hope when he finds old faithful still in his hand and aims her blindly as James surges towards him.

“I’m getting real tired of this game – fuck’s sake!” James shouts in surprise, barely dodging the blade and Aleks isn’t sure if the feeling that rushes over him is disappointment, relief or fear. The potent combination is nearly enough to knock him out, so he barely feels the blow when James is on him and pistol-whips him in the mouth in retaliation. The gun’s snout clips his nose and Aleks’ registers a break as it connects, but the hit is solid, strangely grounding as it leaves him reeling and defenceless.

“Just stop!” James commands, breathing hard with his hands on his knees as he leans over him, and for once in his life, Aleks submits, “You run, I chase. There’s nowhere to go out here…this is it. So stop fucking running. It’s _over_ , Aleksander!”

Aleks shuts his eyes, releases a shaky breath that comes out easier than it should when he feels the tip of the gun under the fold of his neck, forcing his head skyward, shudders as he braces himself. The seconds that pass by seem like an eternity.

“Opened your eyes, goddammit! Look at me…” James’ disconnected voice demands from far away.

Aleks keeps his eyes closed, focusing on his erratic heartbeat.

The second blow, the blow that would be both seriously fucking depressing and also make everything blessedly quiet in the same messed up measure, doesn’t come. He cracks an eye open, tone laced with frustration, almost eager in anticipation and James is looking at him strangely, speaking a final sentence with words that he can’t comprehend. He’s fucking sobering up and he so does not want to go out that way.

“Do it already!” He hisses.

The depthless black holes that are James’ eyes bear down on him, suddenly warm, suddenly confused, searching his face closely as he uses the gun to stabilize his head. Holding his gaze, Aleks wishes those stupid, unavoidable fucking eyes would stop trying to swallow him like they had been ever since the first moment him and James had met.

“I’m so done dragging your ass around tonight – wait, do what?” James interrupts himself, voice high in intrigue, not relinquishing eye contact or the gun pressed under his chin.

“If you’re going to put me down, just do it.” Aleks grits out, almost relishing the cold bite of the metal as he pushes into the barrel.

“What - what the actual fuck?” The gun falls away as James drops his hands to his side, before waving them around incredulously, eyes widening with slowly dawning horror, “I said stop having a meltdown and get the fuck up…”

“Oh my god…just kill me now.” Aleks groans to himself, staggering to his feet and limping past James back towards the car. He can acknowledge that yeah, he might be in shock, this might all just be some hallucination that is part and parcel with the psychotic break he is currently experiencing, but right now death would have been much more forgiving than listening to James’ rambling epiphany right now.

“You seriously thought I was going to point-blank murder you?” James questions from behind him, “Dude, I know you’re losing it right now, but think about this professionally for a second. There were a hundred good opportunities that I already passed up to waste you tonight…”

“DON’T.” This is the closest to begging that Aleks will get as he moves to sit on the hood of the car, heel hitched on the bumper, his head swimming.

“…I shoot for a living, you think I am going to get right up in your face, execution style? It’s cause you think I don’t have the guts at close range, right?” James interrogates, moving in front of him now and right in his space, eyes bright and actions animated with anger and concern, “Fucking speak…you honestly thought you were going to die?”

Aleks says nothing, just stares vacantly in his direction with a small, crooked smile and its all the confirmation he needs.

“That is seriously fucked up, Aleks – we’re supposed to be partners!” James presses, running the gun through his hair in exasperation, desperate to gain a response, “You thought you were done, and as a trained fucking assassin, that’s how you react? You had a fucking boner, dude. Say something, for fuck’s sake!”

With James looking ready to commit another felony, in this moonlight and in this mood, Aleks can’t run from it anymore.

“You’re such a fucking pussy.” Aleks sneers, tipping his head nonchalantly, composed in his coercion. With the tension already strung out to snap, it doesn’t take much to push them both over. He can feel his semi fill out as James lunges for him, basically frothing at the mouth in anticipation as he wraps a hand effortlessly around Aleks bared throat, begins choking him as Aleks’ airway begins to close and his body relaxes defensively like he was born to be manhandled within an inch of his life.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” James hisses viciously, loosening his grip so Aleks can splutter and speak, the words bubbling over his split lips with the trail of blood dripping down his face from his fractured nose. James’ dark eyes dip for a second to the scar of crimson, devouring the stark contrast with his fair skin in the pale moonlight. He looks as ravenous and loosed as Aleks feels.

“You’re the one behind the order, but never behind the trigger anymore, man. Maybe that’s why I was so surprised to see you on the ground tonight,” Aleks voice lilts in challenge, chin tipped up defiantly as James begins to seethe at the question of his authority, “You love to claim you’re the fucking head honcho, but I can’t remember the last time you did your own dirty work…”

He’s cut off by James reclaiming his vice-like hold on his windpipe, intensifying his grip as he squeezes insistently. Just as Aleks begins to see the edges of his consciousness blurring warningly, James relents.

“Are you done, bitch?” James demands, teeth bared and voice shot through with rage, the last attempts to reign in his temper failing as Aleks struggles to catch his breath enough for a final parting shot.

“Fuck you. You play ball like you’re such a goddamn hardman, why don’t you show me for once?”

The wind is knocked out of Aleks’ lungs before he registers that he’s been punched in the face. In his still intoxicated, disoriented state, the force of the blow knocks him backwards, slamming him onto the hood and laying him out vulnerably on his back. His hands scrabble feebly for purchase as he’s flipped over. His tank top catches and the skin of his stomach is exposed and catches painfully as he’s rag dolled, dragged down the body work of the car like he weighs nothing, is nothing. He dimly registers his feet hitting the ground as his knees braces against the bumper.

Still winded, his pathetic attempts to get vertical are interrupted with an uncompromising hand between his shoulder blades, pressing him flat to the cold surface and leaving him gasping. His struggling intensifies when he can feel James reaching around to tear open the front of his shorts, crying out when he drags them down around his thighs, yanking roughly at his lower legs to free them once they hit the ground.

“You’re going to regret running your mouth like that.” It’s not a threat so much as a promise, delivered with all of James’ trademark savagery. It leaves Aleks shivering from more than just the freezing night air caressing him, dick pressing with masochist insistently into the unforgiving metal beneath him, hips stuttering traitorously of their own accord.

“Did I say you could move?” James’ voice comes disapprovingly from behind him, and the hit that he delivers to the back of Aleks’ thigh earns him an embarrassingly shrill cry, gripping his hips harshly and pushing them into the hood as Aleks whines in pain, “We haven’t even had a chance to discuss your evening yet. Don’t think I missed your little strip tease in front of all those people. Did you think you’d get away with it?” James’ harsh breathing and the sharp hand in Aleks’ hair punctuates the question, wrenching his neck painful towards the sky.

The moon glares down on them, detached in its cold brilliance. Aleks stomach rolls again, bile and pangs of lust intermingling, mouth as parched as the ground beneath them as he tries to find his tongue.

“I…”

“So disobedient – did anyone ask for your opinion, slut?” James hisses harshly, bouncing Aleks head off the bonnet. Aleks twists his head in time so his damaged nose doesn’t connect with the frame, wincing gratefully as he takes the brunt of the impact with his cheek. He remains silent save the panting and tiny whimpers of hurt as James continues to ramble, pummelling the tops of his thighs with a quick succession of blows that leave him arching into and away from the contact simultaneously.

“You told me you were done with the street walking.” It’s a true statement and there is a hard edge to James’ voice as his fingers claw painfully into Aleks’ scalp, a breach of trust that’s created a larger fissure than anything else he’s done this evening.

“I-I am…” Aleks stutters out helplessly, fighting to pull away from the contact and biting his lip to suppress a groan at the increase in pressure.

“The women’s clothing, I can take, but you had to go and disobey – no, it’s worse than that – disrespect me in front of everyone, didn’t you?” James continues, relentless in his interrogation as Aleks kicks and spits in futility.

The rational, often ignored part of Aleks brain is dimly aware that the lines are beginning to blur – whatever this is that they are playing at, it’s becoming harder and harder to distinguish the fragile division between the professional and personal. It’s entirely overridden by his animal side, unleashed and drinking in the mouth-wateringly full moon, desperate for discord.

“You want to make this about the others? Fine. You can go fuck yourself if you expect me to roll over when you came at my boy.” Aleks counters, not bothering to brace himself when James slams his head forward again, head reeling as he’s pulled past upright again.

“At least Trevor can handle it! You, on the other hand, can’t be told. Instead you go roaming around Cali on your own and put all of us in danger. Can’t take orders even if it’s in everyone’s interest, can’t keep your head down or your mouth shut – or even keep it to yourself in public. I caught your little stunt with the bartender…” James trails off with a contemplative hum, as if he’s considering all the ways he’s going to inflict his retribution. The suspense is killing Aleks, panting hard and straining harder, desperate to cut to what comes next.

“He was fucking hot.” Aleks jabs, and it’s low balling with the best of them but he’ll do anything to speed up the process as James barks in laughter.

“He’s nothing – if I left him missing a couple of limbs and all of his skin, no one would blink,” James shoots back dismissively, lips curling dangerously at the thought of a personalized mutilation.

“Jealous?” Aleks does his best not to lean into it when James’ hand comes into contact with his face in response, only to find him lightly teasing his cheek, running his fingers along his jaw before popping one into his readily waiting mouth.

“Possessive.” James corrects confidently, popping another two fingers in without warning and making Aleks gag on his own saliva, his dick jerking shamefully with the motion, “You think I’m so easy to read, but I know you, Aleksander. You only pull this shit because you know what it does to me - what I’ll do to you for acting out.”

Aleks almost sighs in relief when James’ fingers exit and he feels one of his hands return to his back, pressuring him forcefully back downward as if in reminder to remain in place while pulling up the length of his tank top, the final shield protecting him from his gaze as he’s forcefully shoved forwards onto all fours.

“N-no, not like this…” Aleks whines in frustration and embarrassment.

“Fuck me.” James groans loudly, and Aleks can only imagine the arousal and irritation warring for dominance on his features as he realizes that Aleks isn’t wearing any underwear.

When the gentle tear of his stockings ripping follows, blunt nails scratching and ripping at the expanding hole in the fabric near his ass, Aleks’ stomach drops. He’s so ashamed and turned on that he can barely think straight at this point, but he knows the last thing he needs is to be fucked like a bitch in heat, even he’s already leaking pre-cum at the prospect. The desire to dominate and take is too strong under this moon for this bullshit. He barely registers the fact that James has started threatening again, needing to reassert his dominance after the slip up that the last of Alek’s defensive tactics had inspired.

“Oh, you think you get a say right now? You’re lucky I don’t leave you to bleed out in a ditch after the shit you’ve pulled. I’ve killed for far less.” James dismisses harshly, deadly in his sincerity.

The tearing continues as Aleks breathing hitches, blood thrumming and heart beat skipping when he catches a chorus of distant howling, the only sign of life fracturing the stagnant silence for miles.

“Please…” Aleks breathes emptily, body tensing as James’ hands roam appreciatively over his ass. In spite of his lack of acquiescence, he finds himself pressing back into it, presenting himself invitingly against his better judgement.

He hears James sigh in relief as he unzips his own fly, the telltale rustling of clothing as he prepares himself, hands biting cruelly into Aleks’ hips as he lines himself up.

“Save it. You wanna act like an animal, then you can take it like one.”

Their groans are unified as James begins to push in. Aleks grits his teeth determinedly, waits until the head has nearly completely passed the tight ring of muscle at his entrance, knowing James’ focus will be completely fucked before he strikes, blindly aiming the heel of his boot for the meat of James’ lower calf. He shoots forward as James’ surprise shout confirms the bullseye, hissing as he rolls over the side of the hood and lands clumsily on his feet, cursing at the impact on his injured ankle as James stumbles backwards, folding in on himself as he grabs for the pain point.

The shift in power is palpable and Aleks takes full advantage, whipping his knife from his boot at lighting speed and coming up from behind to press it into James’ windpipe.

“Straighten up and face me, nice and slow.”

“Bastard…”

“What was that?” Aleks nicks the skin with just enough force to draw a hint of blood, show he’s not messing around as James shuts his mouth and acquiesces.

The sight when he does is worth it. James is breathing just as hard, chest rising and falling under his shirt, usually structured bun a loose mess on top of his head from the evening’s exertion. His lightly tanned skin is deliciously flushed, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides at the loss of control. But it’s his eyes that take what remains of Aleks’ limited capacity to consume oxygen away – his pupils are blown and feverish, pinpointed with lust and anger.

It’s so breathtaking that Aleks concedes for a second and crashes their mouths together violently, feeling his battered lips split anew against James’ waiting teeth, tongue lapping hungrily at the mingling sweat and blood. When James presses forward for more, tongue attempting to delve into the concave of Aleks’ mouth, the warning pressure of the knife has him backtracking with a frustrated growl.

“Who’s the bitch now?” Aleks taunts as James bares his teeth ferally, “Now walk backwards till I say.”

With a grunt of dissidence, James goes with it, keeping his eyes trained on Aleks as he moves in reverse. Aleks takes this moment to reach between his own thighs and finish tearing the gaping hole between them in earnest, biting his cheek as the material gives deliciously under his fingers. He stretches to pull his tank over his head, discarding it in the dust with the remainder of his shame as the back of James’ knees hit the car, lack of concentration and balance causing him to land hard on his ass. He can feel his dick leaking pre-cum, red and slick, bathed in the faint glow of the moonlight.

“Good boy.” Aleks praises dryly as he stalks over on the points of his heels, basking in the glow of James’ wide eyes devouring his bared body, the rays of the moon lighting the way, spotlighting the spectacle.

“Fuck, Aleks…” James groans reverently, pliant under Aleks’ hands when he finally reaches him, not fighting as he pushes the knife back into his throat, securing his handhold on the situation.

“Up. Pants around your thighs.” Aleks orders, gesturing with his eyes for James to move further up onto the hood. James follows the instruction, shoving down his briefs and jeans off and over the side, exposing his aching erection to the air as he elbow-walks up the hood to give Aleks the space to execute whatever is going on in his head.

Aleks crawls with slinky grace after him, clad in his boots and nothing else. Hovering over James’ knees, he feels James’ stomach clench softly, betrayingly, as he moves closer to drag the edge of his knife through the course dark hair trailing down from his navel around the outline of his dick. He knows it almost as well as he knows his own by now – it’s shorter than his, but mouth-wateringly thicker, curving deliciously towards his belly, already wet with his own slick after hours of adrenaline and fucked up foreplay.

“Fucking tease.” James snorts from higher up. Any further witty commentary ceases with a choked off cry as Aleks responds, unable to help himself at this point, by messily sucking his dick into his mouth, lubricating it with his spit. He maintains the hold of the knife the entire time, swirling his tongue around it all too briefly before deciding he’s had enough, cheeks hollowing obscenely when he pulls off with a filthy pop. The loss of contact has James making noises like he’s dying and Aleks kind of gets it at this point, so far gone himself.

“Look at you – you want it so fucking bad, don’t you?” Aleks observes, voice filthy and low as he straddles James’ thighs and wraps a loose hand around his own untouched dick, pumping himself lazily with one hand. James breathes hard through his nose, silent but shooting daggers.

“Get yourself all worked up thinking it could’ve been Brett? Yeah, he had a fucking hot name, too. Or was it Trevor calling me Daddy that set you off?” Aleks narrows his eyes cruelly as James thrashes furiously beneath him, legs trapped and fists pounding in irritation. Despite this, the barely perceptible flush creeping up from beneath the collar of his t-shirt and his dick all but ricocheting off his stomach at the words do not go unnoticed.

“Go fuck yourself.” James returns, but his voice is hoarse and his hips are jerking off the hood of their own accord, hands pinned subserviently by his sides, desperate for a friction that Aleks is well and truly ready to give over too.

Not needing any further invitation, Aleks spits directly down onto James dick as he thumbs at his own head, collecting the mess and slicking up his length as James curses and snarls. Leaning forward as he lines his hips up, Aleks braces his free hand on James’ chest, the other still trained on his throat as he moves up in one striking movement before slamming straight down to impale himself on the length of his cock, legs spreading with a squeal on the hood. James’ entire body clenches in the wake of the slickness and tightness, willing himself not to explode on the spot as he bellows loudly.

The pace set is equally as brutal as its beginning as Aleks begins to move, half bouncing, half rutting as he shifts and slides his hips, exposed cock slapping against his stomach with a fierce intensity. Knife still firmly clenched in his fist warningly, he straightens his back, chest piece extended proudly as he indulges in the constantly embrace of the moonlight, illuminating his ink and beckoning him to devastate and claim. Aleks bites his lower lip, tongue laving at the blood being spilled as he continues to ride James with recklessly.

The feeling of his balance shifting forces him to refocus on the present, very much participating partner below him. He opens his eyes to find James whining helplessly beneath him, beginning to buck upwards in a bid to regain control as his nostrils flare wildly, black pupils fully engorged with lust and a deeper buried resentment – unable to completely lose himself in the pleasure as his consciousness cruelly reminds him of how Aleks learnt to use his body in this way, the many others that have fallen apart under his skilled hands...

Without warning, Aleks lashes out and nicks James’ pec with the knife, moaning as James cries out in surprising, inner walls tightening as he feels the physical recoil inside of him as James jerks backwards in surprise.

“What the fuck, Aleksander!” James shouts, punching the hood in frustration.

“You told me to go fuck myself – did I give you permission participate?” Aleks leers darkly. James growls in irritation and opens his mouth to fire back, before Aleks silences any potential retort as he leans forward and begins sucking the blood beading on the open wound.

“You’re seriously sick…” James hears himself muttering without feeling, but his heads throw back and his black eyes are staring emptily at the night sky, breath catching in his throat and Adam’s apple bobbing erratically as Aleks continues to lap and suck, drawing his attention and the dark thoughts from his mind like he’s sucking the poison right out of James’ soul. Part of him wishes he could go back to when a broken blonde turning tricks began to affect him this way and strike the weakness down from the source. The saner part of him knows he wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Mmmmm…” The hum of appraisal reverberates through James with a shiver as Aleks detaches, before returning to full mount without a hint of self-consciousness.Words escape James entirely as Aleks begins to run his hands over his chest, trailing down to pull and tweak at his dark pink nipples, erect in the cold evening air, before dipping down to trace over his navel, thumbs hugging the gentle slope of his belly before tracing the barely visible line of his hip bones.

As he tends to himself, Aleks resumes a maddeningly leisurely pace, rolling his hips forward lazily, cock bobbing easily. James wants to scream in frustration at the smug smirk that crosses the Russian's lips as he begins massaging his cock with his insides, clenching and releasing and convulsing with a crazed irregularity. After being pinned beneath these ministrations for what feels like an eternity, James hears himself begin to beg. His cheeks flood with blood and shame as he realizes that he’s survived hundreds of interrogations with seasoned tortures but less than an hour underneath Aleks has him opening and spilling out under the stars for all and sundry.

“I can’t – please – just – let me…” James begins to babble brokenly, hands flailing, feeling his willpower beginning to slip as his balls begin to draw up towards his body and away from the cold surface of the car despite being slicked with sweat, prick weeping in sympathy at the desperation in his voice.

The fist connects with James’ jaw in perfect symphony with the wet slap of Aleks’ ass on his sweat-slicked thighs as he begins bouncing determinedly. James reels backwards, groaning at the hot burst of pain and the arousal that blooms in his chest, snaking its way to pool in his stomach as Aleks howls in satisfaction at the shift internally, glancing off his prostate.

“You take what I give you – just fucking take it…”

The rest of the breathily executed threat becomes white noise in the foreground as James’ instincts take over, gripping Aleks’ hips with bruise force and setting his sights on the target, driving upwards as he chases the hallowed angle that has Aleks’ controlled monologue breaking into sharp cries and broken sighs as he begins to pound, abusing the stretch, slick hole that has been accommodating his length for what feels like hours.

“Typical gun for hire – you’re a total – ah – mercenary control freak – ah!” Aleks manages to jab between hitched breathes and hiccupping whines, back bowing beautifully in the open air as James grits his teeth and buries himself into the dripping cavern over and over.

“Say the extraction expert...showboating when you should be finishing...” James pants, before any further witty comeback dies on his lips.

Through the obscene noises and colliding limbs and the desperate, animalistic climb to their releases, he catches sight of the helicopter in the distance, its singular spotlight probing through the desert like a laser on the hunt. Somewhere too close by for comfort, a chorus of motorbike engines disrupt the still night, baying for blood.

As James glances upwards, Aleks remains oblivious, sex-drunk and not sober enough to register the impending firefight. Despite all this, James’ cock is still rock hard, his hips still driving of their own accord, impending orgasm shooting sparks of cerebral lightning up the length of his spine, enhanced by the impending disaster.

“I know exhibition is kind of your thing, but the party is coming to us.” James finds himself saying, the urgency in his tone not reflected in his body’s continual pounding, free hand desperately stripping Aleks’ dick as his ridiculously pink mouth concentrates into a perfect o and his dark eyebrows furrow, blonde hair wrecked as his hands tear at the roots.

“Theirs or ours?” Aleks murmurs, eyes screwed shut as his body begins to spasms frantically, captivating in its own erratic dance as it fulfils its phantom need.

This is amongst the most insanely stupid and insanely hot antics they’ve ever pulled. James wonders if they'll live to laugh about it later.

“Both.” James squints into the distance, unable to discern the trademark red knife that their crew tag on all of their stolen machinery on the helicopter’s frame in the darkness. Further investigation is interrupted as his pleasure begin to crescendo. In the too-near vicinity, the air bird begins to open fire over the tiny squealing dots in the distance, the familiar sound of gunfire speeding up his pulse and hanging in the air like humidity.

“Fuck it, let ‘em come.” Aleks moans, the knife dropping with a clang onto the bonnet.

James surges upright, ensnaring Aleks waist as Aleks sinks his teeth into James’ neck, biting his free hand into the wound as he comes, screaming into the night air.

It’s the last moment of respite before chaos descends like a shadow passing in front of the moon.

Aleks revels in the momentary black out before they disentangle in a mess of scattered clothes and semen and fractured bones, yipping and baying at the ripe, dripping moon as he staggers into a broken lope with James already on the move, gun brandished and bleeding, already shouting orders and demanding his focus, as they move in the direction of the firefight between the two crews.

Knife balanced dangerously between his teeth, whether they fight or fall, Aleks finally knows he’s found something worth dying for.

He’s not running anymore.


End file.
